


Never Been So Loud

by softgay (lovelymartin)



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rejection, Relationship Study, and tajima is the best friend in the world, in which mihashi has Feelings, seriously tajima is so underrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelymartin/pseuds/softgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s hard for Mihashi to know which to believe, when the boy he thought he loved tells him he’s worthless, but the boy he could never love tells him he’s worth the whole world.</p><p>It’s only after his eyes run dry and the shaking subsides and Tajima leaves and he’s left with nothing but exhaustion and a runny nose that Mihashi realizes the boy he thought he could never love is actually the one he’d loved the whole time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Been So Loud

**Author's Note:**

> _When you try to speak but you make no sound_  
>  _And the words you want are out of reach_  
>  _But they’ve never been so loud_  
>   
>  dedicated to the lovely [tajimiha](http://tajimiha.tumblr.com) on tumblr, for venting with me about Tajimiha vs. Abemiha and inspiring me to write this little fic.
> 
> just an fyi, this is going to be very similar to my other oofuri fic, Forgive Me For Breathing, in terms of tone and writing style (and the fact that it’s essentially a character and relationship study). however, the plot and pairings are different. you don’t by any means need to read Forgive Me For Breathing to understand this, but if you HAVE read it, then this will seem pretty similar in some respects.

Human behavior will never cease to confuse Mihashi. It’s that one thing that always haunts him, like a jigsaw puzzle never solved, still scattered over the glass-topped coffee table as dust collects on the wooden pieces.

As he grows older and supposedly wiser, he starts to think he’s found patterns. Ideas, meanings, traced into abstract constellations that are supposed to represent something—a bear, a warrior, a fish, though all Mihashi ever sees is a bunch of jagged lines and maybe a trapezoid every now and then—but a person-shaped unknown is still an unknown.

One pattern is touch. It took him a while, but Mihashi is starting to understand that not every touch is the same. Not every touch looks the same, not every touch means the same. Momoe’s tap on the shoulder that makes him nearly jump out of his skin is different from Hatake’s hardened fists that make his skin throb with phantom pain even though his old bully hasn’t even punched him yet, and that is different from Abe’s grip—tighter than Mihashi has ever gripped a baseball—and Kanou’s soft palm.

The most puzzling touch—the biggest unknown—is Tajima’s. There’s something about Tajima’s hands that are different from all the others. Sure, they look mostly the same—despite palms a little broader than Mihashi’s, fingers a little longer than Abe’s, skin a little darker and nails more unkempt—and yet, they aren’t. They’re not the same at all. The pads of Tajima’s fingers brush differently against Mihashi’s skin than Abe’s, or Kanou’s, or Sakaeguchi’s, or anyone else; Tajima’s hands sweat differently against Mihashi’s palms. His skin is a different temperature, spreads warmth through Mihashi a little longer, a little faster.

Another thing that’s different about Tajima is how _often_ he touches Mihashi. The others’ touches—especially Abe’s—make Mihashi’s skin crawl and his jaw tighten and his mind go blank, but Tajima’s happens so often that he’s used to it. Expects it. Maybe even craves it, a little. Tajima’s hands are shaped just right for Mihashi’s palms, his fingers perfect for weaving between Mihashi’s fingers or tracing the curve of his shoulder or the small of his back. Tajima is the only one who can make him feel warm, instead of cold like all the rest.

 

* * *

 

It takes Mihashi a long time to realize that some people are meant to be loved. 

Crushes and love and romance aren’t things he’s used to, so it’s no surprise that it takes a while for him to find the words to explain what this feeling is that he’s never really felt before. Takes a while for him to find a way to understand that this feeling is connected to a certain person, and that it’s okay for it to be that person. That love doesn’t ruin a friendship, and that he doesn’t always need to  _worry._

The first time he thinks he feels this indescribable feeling, it’s for someone else. Not a girl—he’s never felt more than a fleeting “oh, she’s cute” when he sees a girl that he’s probably supposed to like, and he’s never gotten the butterflies that all the boys complain about, the ones that supposedly make it hard for them to talk to anyone even remotely attractive. Mihashi never has that problem, though a person doesn’t need to be attractive to make it hard for Mihashi to talk to them. 

No, this crush, this  _idea_ of a crush, an inkling of a suspicion of a little fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach, isn’t on a girl. It’s on Abe. 

It hits him very suddenly, when Abe says something to him that Mihashi can’t even remember after the fact, doesn’t even think he heard it at the time. Abe’s voice is lost under the clamor in Mihashi’s mind, the deafening sound of everything clicking into place all at once.  _That explains a lot,_ he thinks.  _That explains why I’m so weird around him,_ he thinks.  _Maybe we’ll get along better now that I know,_ he wants to think. Wants to believe that this will solve it all. Because obviously, love is the answer. And obviously, this is love. 

Mihashi isn’t very good at explaining his emotions, even to himself.

 

* * *

 

Just as quickly as it formed, his “love” soon falls to pieces. 

No surprise, really. Abe doesn’t like him back. Doesn’t seem to like him much at all, really. That concern he always shows, that  _obsession,_ isn’t about Mihashi. It’s about his pitcher, his ace, his own plays and strategies and his ability to act on them. Unfortunately, Mihashi has to learn that the hard way.

He never expected Abe to be so cold. Still doesn’t believe he is, even though his response when Mihashi tries to tell him about his discovery—his crush—certainly makes him seem that way. It’s never about Abe, after all, always about himself. It’s Mihashi’s fault when Abe acts cold, not Abe’s. Obviously. 

That’s not so obvious to everyone, though. Tajima, despite that razor sharp wit and that window he has into Mihashi’s tangled thoughts, doesn’t get it. Won’t even listen to the boy sprawled in his lap, sobbing into his chest as he tries only half-heartedly to wriggle out of his arms. 

Mihashi can hardly even speak, let alone articulate all the reasons why it’s  _his_ fault, not Abe’s—never Abe’s—but Tajima still knows what he’s trying to say. Knows enough to deny it, at least. But it’s hard for Mihashi to know which to believe, when the boy he thought he loved tells him he’s worthless, but the boy he could never love tells him he’s worth the whole world. 

Why can’t I love him? he thinks to himself, but he knows the answer, knows that he has no choice but to escape from the folds of Tajima’s shirt and the heat of his freckled skin and finish this breakdown on his own, the way it was supposed to be. He doesn’t want another straight boy, he insists to himself, especially not one who only pretends to care. 

_I do care,_ is all he can hear, a cracked voice in his ear that sounds an awful lot like Tajima’s before he pushes the thought away.  _I care, I care, I truly care about you._ It’s an echo, shattering through the darkness filling Mihashi’s mind, and it only makes him cry harder. It’s only after Tajima’s hold on him tightens that Mihashi realizes the voice hadn’t just been his imagination. It’s only after Tajima buries his fingers in his hair that Mihashi realizes his body had been created for Tajima’s touch. It’s only after his eyes run dry and the shaking subsides and Tajima leaves and he’s left with nothing but exhaustion and a runny nose that Mihashi realizes the boy he thought he could never love is actually the one he’d loved the whole time. It’s not even a realization, more of an understanding—not a sudden spark, but a fire that had always been flickering in the corner, waiting for Mihashi to look over that way. 

This isn’t what he thought love would be. This isn’t a cold Tajima-shaped weight in his chest, like the cold Abe-shaped weight that had finally been lifted. It’s more of a warm, sodden feeling, like he’s been standing out in the rain until he’s soaked to the bone and his hair sticks to his neck and his clothes cling to his skin but instead of shivering, he feels like he’s glowing. His skin burns with every time Tajima’s ever touched him, his ears throb with every word Tajima’s ever spoken to him, and his mind is stuck on repeat, his garbled thoughts suddenly clear.  _Tajima,_ they whisper, seeping out through his skin and coating the outside of his body with feverish heat.  _Tajima, Tajima, You’re in love with Tajima, Tajima…_

On the other side of the door, the boy Mihashi loves, who doesn’t know that something has changed within the boy  _he’s_ always loved, digs his teeth into his bottom lip, presses his overgrown fingernails into his skin, squeezes his eyes shut until he sees stars and quickly opens them before the tears can form.

 

* * *

 

The only thing harder than realizing he’s in love with Tajima is telling him. The fear of rejection eats away at Mihashi, compounded by the memory of Abe’s reaction that still throbs dully in his mind.  _Tajima isn’t like that,_ he tries to tell himself, but he still believes that Abe isn’t really like that either. Still believes it was Mihashi’s fault for developing feelings—and sharing those feelings—instead of Abe’s for rejecting him so cruelly. So if Abe, a fundamentally good person, can reject Mihashi, why can’t Tajima? 

He knows it was stupid to fall in love with his best friend. It was one thing to set back an already-rocky relationship, but to destroy the one good thing Mihashi ever had in his life? He doesn’t even want to think about losing Tajima. His skin still feels a little warmer from the memory of that day, from the way he ran from Abe, tears blossoming in his eyes, the catcher’s shouts ringing in the air, and nearly collapsed in Tajima’s arms. The way Tajima knew immediately and threw an arm over Mihashi’s shoulder and took him home—to Tajima’s house, which was still just as much “home” to Mihashi as his own—and lay him down on the living room floor because Mihashi couldn’t make it to the couch and held him until his tears stopped. Who will hold him now, when Tajima rejects him? 

Another memory rises to the surface, and now all Mihashi can think about is a tiny broken gasp, and a dull  _thump_ as a body hit the back of the door and slid to the ground, and a clenched fist punching uselessly at the soft carpet of Tajima’s bedroom as the boy he loved dissolved in sobs he couldn’t hold in any longer. Mihashi had never felt more powerless than in that moment, hearing his strong, confident friend become something he’d never in a million years let Mihashi see. All the warmth from before had been drained from Mihashi’s body, and he felt like he was sleepwalking as he silently crept out the front door and made his way back home. 

He’d laid awake that night wondering what had broken Tajima. Tired eyes screamed silent, desperate questions to the smoky sky, but the faded stars didn’t answer him, and eventually he had given up and rolled over onto his side and tried not to think about anything anymore. Now, though, Mihashi thinks he’s found his answer. 

Still, he doubts. He doubts with all his heart, and hopes with all his heart, and somehow, that strange combination fills him with something he’s rarely felt. He feels  _brave,_ all of a sudden, or maybe reckless is a better word. Either way, he knows exactly what he has to do. 

He catches Tajima after practice. 

The boy is smiling, red-faced and a little out of breath from running, and every drop of sweat that glistens on his forehead is like a tiny star, a pinprick of light perfectly placed in the endless cosmos. Mihashi is winded, but this time, the inability to find words isn’t going to stop him. 

“Hey, Mihashi!” Tajima claps him lightly on the back, making Mihashi jump a little on instinct. One day, he prays, he’ll be able to lean into his touch the way he wants to. 

“H-hi, Tajima-kun,” is all Mihashi can say. 

“You wanna walk home with me? My mom’s making her special curry tonight, and you  _need_ to try it!” 

“I-I,” Mihashi tries. “I’ve, u-um, I’ve already had your mom’s special curry…” Not exactly what he was going for, but the smile that splashes across Tajima’s makes it worth it. 

“Awesome! Then you know how amazing it is!” 

“Yeah,” Mihashi says. Tajima just keeps on smiling, and Mihashi can’t tear his eyes away. The fear rolls over him like thick gray fog on a winter morning, and Mihashi doesn’t want to ruin what could possibly be his last chance to see the boy he loves smile like that. But the thought doesn’t quite reach his mouth in time, and by the time he’s fully processed this it’s too late for him to stop. And before he knows it, he’s telling Tajima everything. It’s only after he’s finished that he realizes that he never made a sound. 

But Tajima hears. He’s always been able to speak the language of Mihashi’s silence, construct sentences and meanings from the nuances of his absence of sound. And what he hears in the words Mihashi doesn’t say is everything Mihashi ever wanted to know. 

Mihashi doesn’t even realize that Tajima has his arm around him. He doesn’t even realize that Tajima is saying something back, using the words that never left Mihashi’s mouth to formulate an answer.  _I love_ you, _Mihashi,_ he’s saying.  _I’ve always loved you, and I always will._ He doesn’t even realize that there are tears in Tajima’s eyes, but he  _does_ realize that Tajima’s leaning in close, and that his hands are clasped at the back of Mihashi’s neck, and that the boy he loves is exactly his height and those eyes are exactly in line with his eyes and those lips are exactly in line with his lips. 

It takes less than a second for that distance between them to shrink to zero. 

It takes less than a second for a new touch to occur, a kind of touch that Mihashi hasn’t experienced from anybody, not just Tajima. 

It takes less than a second for Mihashi to feel warmer than he’s ever been in his life. 

It takes less than a second for Mihashi to fall in love, for real this time. And with each passing second, each breathless moment of Tajima’s lips against his own, he falls in love all over again. And again, and again, and again, until neither of them can breathe anymore, until the rest of the world melts away in a shimmering puddle on the horizon, until every inch of Tajima’s skin becomes Mihashi’s, and every freckle and mole and birthmark is burned onto Mihashi’s face, and every vein and artery and cell in Tajima’s body is transferred beneath Mihashi’s skin, and two hearts begin to beat as one.

**Author's Note:**

> the title and the lyrics in the earlier notes are from the song “Beside You” by Marianas Trench. if you love tajimiha like i do, i would not recommend listening to this song unless you like being cONSUMED WITH EMOTION. don’t say i didn’t warn you.
> 
> also, i don’t want anyone to think that i’m bashing Abe in this. i actually do really like Abe, but i have very mixed feelings about his and Mihashi’s relationship, and since this fic kind of stemmed from a conversation i had about these mixed feelings, it was only natural that some of that would work its way into this fic. if you want to talk more about this and hear what i have to say, or you want to come to me and defend abemiha with all your heart, feel free to message me on [tumblr](http://tajimayuuchirou.tumblr.com/ask) (off anon please!!!!!) and we can chat!


End file.
